The 61st Hunger Games: An Alliance To Survive
by Iamnumber29
Summary: Three average Panem teenagers have no idea what's in store for them. The Hunger Games can bring some fame and fortune, but it can also bring pain and sorrow. Will one of these three overcome the death? It's a tale about their fight for their lives.
1. Chapter 1: Let us celebrate!

**Zale Prentice**, _District 1_

"Right, left, right, right, left, duck, kick!" At Trey's command to kick, I sent Trish's legs right out from under her, landing her on her behind. I now stand above her, with my club at a defensive position in case she decides to get up. But I see it in her eyes; she knows she has lost the fight. "Good job Zale, if you go into the games you definitely have a shot of winning."

I look at him with a face glowing with annoyance, "Like I've said before, to you and my mother, I'm not going into the games. There's too many careers just drooling for the chance to get in there, if I was reaped, there is no doubt someone would volunteer."

He throws his hands up in the air, as if to say he meant no harm by that statement, "Look, your mother just doesn't want to lose you like she lost her husband, if you died in the games she would be heart broken. Same goes for your mom Trish, I'm just trying to get you two prepared for the worst."

By now Trish has gotten back up from the battle and is regaining her thoughts, "Zale and I just think it's kind of pointless to be here training when we could be out celebrating the games." She says.

"Okay, tell you what," Trey pulls out his watch and thinks for a good ten seconds "I'll let you two out an hour early. But just because it's Reaping Day. And don't tell your parents about this, it'll be our little secret." He says with a smile. He then heads out the door of our makeshift training center.

We give a sigh of relief and hang our weapons on the rack. Trish and I agree to meet up in twenty minutes, which gives each of us enough time to get ready and walk to the café.

The training center is in my back yard so I only have to walk a few feet before I'm standing in the doorway that leads to our kitchen. My mom is by the stove cooking breakfast, and by the heaving of her shoulders, and the gasping and sniffing noise she makes I can tell she's crying. Oh, Mother!

Don't get me wrong, I do love her, but sometimes the constant worry of me getting sucked into the games and being murdered, gets annoying. Ever since my father, along with Trish's, was killed in a car accident, she is always freaking out about me getting hurt.

"Mom." I say. She turns around and tries to hide the tears, but she knows it's too late. I walk up to her and give her a tight hug, slowly stroking her back. "I'm not going anywhere, so stop worrying so much."

She then holds me back at arm's length and looks me straight in the eye, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry; I just can't stop thinking what it be like to lose my son. After losing your father you are all-"

"I know, I know, it's alright. Nothing is going to happen to me, just promise me you'll stop crying." I say.

"Okay, okay." She says, "I promise, go on and get ready."

We exchange "I love you's" and then I walk down the hall to my room, my plain, boring room. It's extremely bare, with only a few pieces of white furniture to decorate it. A single bed with white sheets, a small, white bed-side table that has only a lamp to accessories it, a white mahogany dresser, and a white, wood stool in the corner.

I take a pair of light brown dress pants out of my dresser, slowly closing the drawer. I then go over to my closet and take out my blue, button-up shirt that I only wear on special occasions. And what could be more special than Reaping Day?

Next I walk to the bathroom which sits adjacent to my room, along the way buttoning up my shirt. As I stand in front of the mirror I take in my looks, adding "brush hair" to my mental to-do list. It's astonishing how my appearance greatly resembles my room, in the sense of it being drab.

My ruffled blonde hair badly needs a trim, but I kind of like the long look. I then watch my faded green eyes travel down the rest of my face. I watch them take in my short, pointed nose, my thin lips that are always set in a horizontal line, and my pale face that has a hint of pink to it.

The mirror isn't large enough to see the rest of my body, but I already know what it looks like. I'm of average height, taller than my mother yet shorter than most men in our district, and I have a little bit of muscle. I still have a bit of developing to go.

I brush my teeth and hair, and then head downstairs. To my surprise, my mother is gone, but sitting on the table is a note, "_To Zale, I went out for some prep time with Mrs. McCoy. I needed somebody to talk to before the reaping, I'll meet you there."_

It doesn't surprise me really. Anytime my mother is having emotional problems, she goes over to Mrs. McCoy's house, who is Trish's mom. I look at the clock and realize it's already 1:15, forty-five minutes until the reaping. That's plenty of time to get a muffin and some coffee with Trish.

I walk out the door to find that it's perfect reaping weather, a little breezy with the sun peeking out behind the clouds. Me and my mom will probably have a picnic later after the reaping, which will be nice. I take my time strolling down the street to the café, taking in the beautiful weather conditions.

As I get into sight of Trish I start to wonder what people perceive of our constant interaction. Do people get the impression that Trish and I are dating? Surely not, we're just friends, we have been since birth. Our mothers were best friends when they were children, so we're practically siblings. Besides, Trish has a boyfriend, Jett. And now that I think about it, he'll probably be joining us this morning.

And as I get closer, my suspicions are confirmed because I can see those two holding hands, waiting for me outside the café door. Once they see me they both wave, and when I get into range me and Jett shake hands. "Good to see you again Jett, it's been a while." I say. Jett's a pretty cool guy, after you get over the fact the he towers over everybody he meets. His height can be intimidating sometimes, but he's actually pretty laid back.

"I know, it seems like forever." He says, and we make small-talk as we stride into the building. When we get to the front of the line I order a slice of banana nut bread and a cup of black coffee. The clerk hands me my breakfast as I walk over to an empty table, careful not to spill the hot coffee. Years of working in my family's jewelry store as the gem cutter, has given me incredible skills that help me to be as steady as stone.

I must have been extremely hungry, because by the time Trish and Jett have got their food and sat down across from me, my bread is almost gone. "So guys, ready for the reaping?" I say nonchalantly.

"Sure, I'm ready to see which two kids decide to end their lives this year." Trish says while Jett nods in agreement. Jett has never been the type to train as a career; he has the same mindset as Trish and I. There will always be a volunteer.

We continue to have a conversation on last year's games, talking mainly about the impressive chariot ride costumes, when the store owner announces that he's closing down for the reaping. All three of us get up and exit the shop, along with a few others that were enjoying their morning snack. We decide to head straight to the town square since we only have around fifteen minutes.

Our town square is giant, probably because we have a fairly large district. It's made entirely of stone, even the huge stage is made out of light grey earth. As we arrive I see my mom and wave, giving her a reassuring nod to let her know everything will be okay.

I then sign in at the registration table, afterwards heading to the roped of section of the square marked with a "15" indicating the age of the children in that area. I'm accompanied by Jett; Trish won't be fifteen until after the games.

The wait for the ceremony to start is agonizing, between the nervous chit-chat passed on by other kids and the frightened looks of the twelve year-olds attending their first reaping, I'm about to die! But fortunately I don't have to endure it long, because after a few minutes the crowd hushes as Mayor Grant walks across the stage signaling the start.

Mayor Grant is an odd man; he always wears the stiff grey suits that match his eyes. He's getting on in age so his hair matches also. He approaches the microphone that is evenly set up between to giant, glass bowls, each containing thousands of slips of paper. All containing a single name, one of the eligible children for the games. Four of them have my name written on it.

The mayor begins his speech that I hear every year, about The Great Rebellion, The Dark Days, and The Treaty of Peace. He then hands the mic over to a man named Cherriton Mayne, who is district one's escort. Cherriton is known for having ties with every important person in the Capitol. "Hello everybody, and welcome to the District One reaping of the 61st Hunger Games, and may the odds be with you!" he then walks over to the glass bowl on the right, which contains the names of the girls. "Let us begin with the ladies." He adjust his bright pink suit and starts digging around for a slip of paper. I can't help but stare at his snow white wig, the things they wear in the Capitol. He finally finds a slip that is suited to his liking and walks back over to the microphone. "And our lucky tribute is… _Magenta Creen_!"

I scan the crowd and watch a menacing girl from the seventeen area walk up to the stage, she carries herself with confidence that gives you the feeling that she was born for the games. She finally makes it to the stage and stands tall beside Cherriton. "Any volunteers?" he asks.

But by the look Magenta gives, you know not to volunteer. The look says "If you stand up, I'll make sure you don't make it the games." The crowd stays silent, which is a surprise; I guess even the toughest trainees aren't brave enough to take on the terrorizing reaped girl.

Cherriton then walks to the boys bowl, this time settling with a slip on the very top. As he walks back to the center, I take a look at my mom. She's squeezing Mrs. McCoy's hand, with a pained look. I can't believe it, she shouldn't be worrying. But I couldn't be more wrong, because the name Cherriton announces is "_Zale Prentice!"_

I gasp. I can't believe it! Out of a thousand names, he picked mine. I look to my mom to see she is hysterical; her face is bright red, streaked with tears. And she's crying, hard. I know she promised me not to cry, but right now I let it slide. I'm almost on the verge of tears myself. But I keep a brave composition, for the cameras. But it's hard, between the shock of being reaped, to the emotional break-down of my mother, and the constant shaking of my legs, I'm about to collapse.

I mean, how is this possible, this was not supposed to happen. The odds were with me from the beginning; my four slips of paper were surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of others. How is it that my name was the one Cherriton picked? But I don't have time to answer my own question, because soon the peacekeepers have spotted me out and are currently pushing me towards the stage. This is so wrong; I mean I was so confident that this wouldn't be happening. I even had a picnic planned

I have to remind myself to walk, and not look at my mother. I know the slightest glance her way and I'll be in the exact same state. To take my mind away from her, I find myself counting the steps up to the stage, one, two, three. And before I know it, I'm standing beside Magenta.

"Any volunteers?" Cherriton asks. Volunteers! I had totally forgotten. There has to be some desperate teen, just begging for fame and fortune. I see them every day at school; I hear their bragging to their friends about how they have what it takes. Maybe hope isn't all lost!

But once again, I'm wrong. Because instead of an eager hand raised to take my place, or an ecstatic shout, all is still, and the crowd is silent.


	2. Chapter 2: Hacked

**Kord Calloway,**___District 3_

Numbers. Letters. Dashes. Other useless symbols. All these make up computer code. My language, my oxygen, my life. Ever since I was a child, I've had a genuine knack for manipulating computer hardware. Whether it be updated speed processors, or breaking through various account set-ups, it's in my capability. These activities have kept me sane through my hell of a life.

Every morning when I wake up I plop down on my old, tattered stool in front of my computer, and then get to work doing various jobs. You see, I run a secret business where I complete any software fix-ups, computer updates, or virus protections needed. If somebody in District Three doesn't have the money to go to a legal technician, then they come to me for a lower price.

I realize what I do is illegal, and could end me up executed, but it's how I survive. Without my unlawful business transactions, I wouldn't have food to eat or clothes to keep me warm. Seeing as I can't count on my parents to provide me anything, it's my only source of income.

Ever since my brother, Park, died I have been excluded from the family. To my parents, I'll never live up to him. About ten years ago, Park was reaped as tribute for the Hunger Games. Nobody even considered that he would win; our district has very few victors. But it turns out, that the odds were greatly in his favor that year. Because he had the privilege to come back home.

Since he won, our family moved into one of the beautiful houses in Victor's Village. Life wasn't as bad then, but I could see it going downhill. Ever since Park's return, my parents were starting to forget I existed. They didn't totally hate me, but I knew they didn't care about my survival. I didn't mind too much, I still got regular meals, and my own room.

But then it got worse when Park got severely ill with an uncommon case of some rare disease. He survived for about a month in bed, up to the point where we believed he was going to make it, but ended up passing away during the night.

Our family was forced to move back into our old house, and my parents started releasing all their anger towards me. They constantly reminded me how I'll never be as good as my brother; they even went so low as to say that I should have been the one to die, not Park.

Later they stopped talking to me like a person, and more like a stray cat. Next came their constant denying me of food; they said if I was hungry, that I should buy my own. And finally, they kicked me out of the house; telling me I had to sleep in a small shack in our backyard that's no bigger than a closet.

And that's what has got me to where I am now, living in a seven foot shack, consistently wondering whether or not my life is worth living. But I have come to the decision that, even if it's not, I'll find another way to kill myself other than The Hunger Games. I never want to have my death televised all over Panem, giving the Capitol such joy. That's my ultimate nightmare.

But I really don't have to worry about getting shoved into the games. About a year ago I hacked into the District Three Justice Building's online account, wiping out my name from their roll. That ensures that I'll never be reaped. It's utterly impossible. There isn't a trace of my existence on their computers. That's the only way I can sleep at night.

Speaking of sleep, I didn't get a wink of it last night; I was too busy feeling sorry for the two kids getting reaped today. So ever so slowly, with very heavy eyelids, I get up from my bed of straw, pick up my comb along the way.

I look into the small mirror I took from the garbage and see that large bags are hanging down my tan face. It's a large contrast from the rest of the district's pale, ashen skin. I'm used to having a different appearance though; my eyes are pastel blue instead of brown. And I'm very well-muscled, even though I usually have no physical work out in my days. The only thing that ties me to my district is my jet black hair, which looks a little too curly for my fellow straight-haired piers.

As I'm taking in my looks, my stomach gives a loud growl; informing me it's time for breakfast. I walk over to a jar on the floor, which is where I keep my money, only to find it empty. Not even a single coin lies at the bottom.

"How am I going to get breakfast?" I ask myself. I leave my shack, not bothering to say a word to my mom and dad, and decide to form a plan on my way to the bakery. If I could just finish the project I'm currently working on for a neighbor, I could get my payment and go. No, that would take way too long, I only have two hours.

I'm about to go back to that neighbor's house, and ask for my payment early, when I realize I'm already at the baker's. I go to open the door, only to find it locked. Of course! They're bound to be closed on Reaping Day. I silently peer into the window, looking for any sign of life, but I see none. I had just come to the conclusion that all the shops are closed when my eye catches something of interest; a large, fresh loaf of bread that's just sitting on the table.

My conscience tells me to forget about it and walk away, but my inner criminal, and my stomach, tells me to go ahead and steal. It's not long before I make a decision, seeing as it's two against one, I slowly look around to see if anyone is watching; only to find the street's empty.

I then search the ground until I find what I'm looking for, a large, heavy rock. I pick it up, take a deep breath, and then do something stupid, something that ends me up in a heap of trouble. I smash the window.

Luckily the baker hasn't had a security system installed. So I cautiously step through the broken window, making sure not to leave any blood or cloth as evidence. Once inside, I breathe a sigh of relief, taking in my surroundings.

The lights are off, but the warm glow of the outside sun illuminates the inside. There's a few hard-wood tables between my entry way and the counter with the bread, so I'm careful not to bump into any.

I finally make it to the plate of bread without making a ruckus, and hope nobody has noticed the broken window. Settling with the thought that my break-in has gone without attention, I turn my full focus to the large, juicy loaf of bread the sits on a plate before me. I originally planned to take it back to my shack, but hunger takes over and I stuff my face right then and there.

I'm so entertained eating the delicious, freshly baked bread, and gorging myself with it, that I don't notice a presence behind me until he clears his throat. I jump out of fright, and then quickly spin around. I come face to face with two mean looking peacekeepers.

"Just what do you think you're doing boy?" the peacekeeper on the right, that seems much taller than his partner, says.

"I,I,I …." I can't seem to hide the fault in my voice, or mask the look of guilt upon my face. How did I let this happen? I'm so dumb.

"Seems like we got ourselves a little thief Reagan." The shorter one says to the taller one, whom I guess is named Reagan. He then turns to me with a devilish smile. "You know stealing is punishable by death right?"

"I'm so-o-o sorry!" great now I'm stuttering. "I was ju-ju-just so hungry."

"Too bad boy!" Reagan says. "It looks like it we're going to have to take you in." they each walk to one side of me and each grab an arm. They then start dragging me out the door, down the street, making my feet occasionally drag. Every time they do, I get a hard elbow in the ribs as a response.

It seems like forever, the time it takes to get from the baker's to the justice building. Once we arrive the two awkwardly sized peacekeepers haul me up the concrete steps, up to the giant, chiseled doors. Each peace keeper opens one of the doors with their spare hand, and then they shove me inside.

Once inside, they lead me to a small office and make me take a seat in a cushioned velvet chair that faces a large desk. On the way out Reagan stops in the doorway and turns to me. "The chief will be with you shortly, so don't steal anything." He smirks, and then walks out the door.

The chief, I've seen him a couple of times before. His name is Jorgen Strange, and he is a sight to see. For starters, he is huge! He stands at about six foot seven, and has bulging muscles that look like they're about to explode any minute. He doesn't usually wear the standard peacekeeper uniform, just black pants, black combat boots, and a white tank top. And his white military cut hairstyle gives him the look of an army general. All these characteristics make up a very, frightening person.

I take my mind off of my impending doom by taking in my current surroundings. The room is painted a creamy white color, with a few paintings hanging on the wall. In one corner there is a tall, potted plant; most likely a fern. And in another corner there is a short file cabinet. I now look in front of me, behind the desk. Scooted close to the enormous desk is a big leather chair that could seat a giant, and now that I think about it, it probably does. Behind it, the wall is hidden behind two, large book cases. Each contains many rustic looking books.

I'm so absorbed in my confusion of this stylishly decorated room, that I jump when the door opens, revealing the monster that holds my fate. As Jorgen walks to his chair, giving me a threatening stare, I can't help but wonder what my punishment will be.

As he sits down, Jorgen puts a laptop that he was carrying on the desk, and then flips it open. "So kid, why are you sitting in front of me?" his question makes me feel like I'm sitting in front of the principal at school, for committing some kind of bad deed. That is, before I dropped out.

"I broke into the bakery, and stole some bread." I say, trying to make eye contact, but I can't without sending a quaver through my voice.

"Aahh, so you're a thief." The way he says it makes me feel like he already knows about the crime I committed. "Tell me boy, what's your name?"

"Kord Calloway." I say, trying to be polite as possible.

After I've told him my name he types something into his computer the taps the "enter" button. "That's odd." He says, and then looks back to me. "Are you any good with computers Kord?"

This question strikes me as odd, but what harm can my answer do? "Yes, I like to think I'm a wiz with software." I say, but as soon as it leaves my lips I regret it. He must have typed in my name, and found no trace of me. And by the look on his face, I think he's come to the same conclusion.

"Kord did you somehow manage to wipe your name off of this account?" I'm smart enough to now that I'm caught.

"I was only…" I try to come up with an excuse for my actions.

"SO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOU HACKED INTO THE DISTRICT'S COMPUTER!" he yells in rage.

"I never said that sir!" I say back.

"I'm not stupid boy, I can tell by the look on your face." He just sits there without saying a word for what seems like eternity, and then he must have made a decision. His next words are like a cold, icy punch to the face. "Tomorrow afternoon, you will be executed." He says it so calmly that it takes a while to process. I'm going to die. "Now go to the reaping, and be thankful your death will be quicker than this year's tributes."

I can't believe this horrible turn of events. It went by so fast; it was over in less than a minute. I stand up, like a robot, and go out the door. My movement is forced by some inner being inside of me, maybe the part of me that's so scared of this building, it wants to get as far away as possible. Or maybe it's the intelligent part of me that knows if I stay here any longer, I'll fall deeper into the hole I dug. I walk out the doors, and now stand out on the verandah of the Justice Building. I'm right across from the town square, and can see the crowd, and hear the mayor giving his annual speech.

I dash for the square, knowing if I'm spotted coming in late that I'll be punished, but wait, aren't I already being punished. I finally get to the area marked for the seventeen year-olds, out of breath and not caring if any peacekeepers notice my tardiness. I slide into a tight squeeze in the crowd, right on the edge near the center aisle.

Just as I get into position, the district's escort, Lem Winslow, walks to the middle of the stage. He looks like he belongs either at a circus, or at a fashion show. He's wearing these white pants, with red stripes going down them. It matches his shirt; a big, poofy, red balloon shirt that flows in the wind. He walks like he's on a runway though, with that left to right movement in his hips. He looks ridiculous.

Instead of paying attention to the reaping of the girls, I try to think of an escape plan. I need a way to flee the district, a way to survive. I know what I said about my life may or may not be worth living for, but when it comes down to it, I think I would rather live. But I come up short, there is no way I can escape I a day.

I only take a break from my scheming to watch a darling, little pig-tailed twelve year-old, get reaped. Her rosy red cheeks really bring out her innocence. The Capitol should be ashamed of their selves, making a girl like this, fight for her life. It just waters the seed of hatred I hold for President Snow.

I think I recognize her, from the tailor. She helps her grandma sell dresses at their shop. My heart brakes when Lem calls for volunteers, but nobody answers the call.

Next, the escort walks to the boy's bowl. I have a quick thought that Jorgen might've switched the bowl with one just containing my name, but I immediately dismiss this thought. By the time I was done at the Justice Building, the reaping was already under way. And I didn't notice anybody switch the bowls.

After Lem has selected a name, he walks back to the podium. "_Kent Veel!"_

This is horrible, not only to me, but to the whole crowd; a chorus of gasps fill the square. It's another twelve year-old, one that I also recognize. From the same place! It's the little girl's twin brother. I can see glimpses of his freckled face, or small glass, as he tries to see over the counter in the shop. I can't imagine what's going on in their grandma's head, but both of the kids are crying.

This is agonizing; I'm starting to think that my punishment is worse than theirs. That family is guaranteed to lose a member. I wish there was something I could do. And like a flash of lightning in my head, my scheme forms into a full out plan.

When Lem asks for volunteers, my hand shoots up.


	3. Chapter 3: The Black Sheep of the Family

**June Karillo, **_District 7_

Pretty much all of my mornings are like this; being woke up by my obnoxious, spoiled, brat of a little brother. But seeing as it's also Reaping Day, my dread is magnified by one hundred.

I guess that's what sets me apart from the rest of my family; Mom, Dad, my little brother Dawson, and my older brother Bush. My constant fretfulness over The Hunger Games irritates my family. Being that my father is a peacekeeper, we don't know what it's like to be underfed and out of money, which is the direct opposite of most of the district. And since my family has never suffered, they don't see what's wrong with the games. Even my nine year-old brother enjoys watching children kill each other.

But I've always had a pretty clear mind, I see just how demented the whole concept of The Capitol, and the games, are. That's why I've never gotten along with my family, but their obliged to tolerate me. Besides Dawson, he'll go out of his way to see that I'm miserable.

Like right now, as he bounces up and down on my stomach trying to wake me up. I was enjoying my sleep, seeing as I only got an hour of it last night, and am now very aggravated. I shove Dawson down, off my bed and onto the floor, not caring if he breaks a few bones on the way down.

"Ooouch!" he shrieks, which is accompanied by the loud thump of him hitting the ground. He then gets up and runs out of the room. "Mom! June pushed off of the bed!" I can hear him tattling as I follow him down the hall, into the kitchen. Great, I'll for sure be punished.

As I enter the kitchen I'm welcomed with the sight of my father and Bush stuffing their faces at the kitchen table, and my mother comforting Dawson with a hug, meanwhile giving me a furious look. "June Wren Karillo," I wince at the free use of my middle name "you should be ashamed of yourself. How could you harm a sweet little face like this?"

She calls it sweet, I call it deranged. "I'm sorry, but I was trying to sleep." I say, hoping she'll let it slide and move on.

"Well I told him to go wake you up, breakfast is ready." She says. I guess this will be harder than I thought.

"Did you also tell him to jump on my stomach until I hurl?" I ask, not careful to show the annoyance.

"Don't use that tone with me! You should have already awoke like the rest of the family. As punishment you'll be eating cooked oatmeal, instead of the bacon and toast the rest of us enjoyed. If you're not going to eat with your family, then you won't be part of the family." She says.

"Since when was I ever apart of this family?" I say as I walk out the door, not caring about my oatmeal. But I don't really have anywhere to go. I'd just about decided to wander the streets without a destination, when I remembered I had made plans with friends the previous day. I had arranged to meet Birck and Lou in the east woods, which only have a few standing trees left; it's mostly just stumps. Nobody ever goes in those woods any more, due to the lack of wood, so my friends and I usually hang out there.

I like being around my friends, those two are the only ones who understand me. They don't outcast me, like my family, and they share my views on The Capitol and there games. We met in kindergarten; we were all assigned to the same table. Ever since we've been friends. There's no awkwardness towards Birck either, even though he's the only boy. We're like brother and sisters, especially when it comes to our looks. We all three have the normal light brown hair, although min is straighter than their curls. Our eyes are all green, but mine isn't near as bright; they're very dull. And just as the rest of the district, we're all very tall.

My face lights up when I spot them sitting under a large oak tree. It lights up even brighter when I see they've brought food, caused by my neglect of my punishment. Once I draw within hearing distance they shout greetings. "Hey June! Hello! What's up?" I finally reach them and sit down in the lush grass.

"Not much, but I'm kind of sick of my family." I say. They know all about my family issues, I've ranted to them many times.

"I'm sorry," Lou says, "if you could live with me, my parents would so let you. But you know the peacekeepers would never let that happen." I'm grateful for her offer, but even if it was legal I would never do that, her parents can barely feed her and her sister as it is. If I moved in then they couldn't afford it.

"But you still have our love and support; we'll always be here for you." Birck says, simultaneously giving me a pat on the knee. We start to chow down on some cheese and toast Birck brought, occasionally stopping to say something. Our talk is mostly on the comparison between oak and maple, but then turns into something we always seem to rave about, the unfairness of The Hunger Games.

"It's so wrong to send kids, some of them only twelve, to kill each other." Lou says. "Not only are they sending twenty-three kids to their deaths, but also giving them enormous emotional grief. I just wish it would stop." I completely understand what she's saying. I've watched the games my whole life, crying over, not only the two district seven tributes, but the others as well.

"Well as much as I'd love to argue about The Capitol," Birck says "we need to go get ready for The Reaping; it's 1:00." I look at my own watch and see what he means. I get up and leave, saying my good byes, letting those two clean up. They understand though, if I'm late I'll be in even more trouble. My walk back to the house was pretty uneventful, right up until I was about to turn down our street.

I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and I was jogging, which lead to me running right into a large man turning the corner.

I'm so light that I fell immediately, but the stranger only stepped back a few steps. Once I regained my thoughts, I looked up into the man's face, still on the ground. He is relatively young, maybe in his late twenties. He's tall and well-muscled, and wears holy denim pants, and a dark green t-shirt. But what is most intriguing is his face. Despite his youth, I see years of pain and sorrow, but behind that I see kindness. His eyes are large, with a dark green tint that matches his shirt. He has a fairly large nose, and his face is lined with brown stubble. Over-all, I'd say he's pretty handsome.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry sir!" I say, trying to make it sound as sincere as possible, in case I hurt him.

"It's fine." He says giving me a genuine smile, and he then helps me up. "There's no harm done."

"It's just, I was in such a hurry." I say

"Don't worry about it," he laughs as he says this, and then starts to walk away, but then stops "I didn't catch your name."

I find this statement odd, since I just met him, but give it to him anyway. "It's June Karillo." And as I say it, I realize that his face looks familiar. "Um, what's yours?"

A look of shock registers across his face, suggesting that I should know his name. "Cannon." He says, and then briskly walks away. I'm now left standing there in confusion, how do I know him? I start to walk, while also trying to place his face. Is he the mayor's son? No, the mayor's son too young. Does he work at the lumber mill with me? I dismiss that thought too; if he worked with me I would recognize him.

It's not until I'm standing at my own doorstep, that I recognize him. His name is Cannon Blakely. I picture him holding a bloody battle axe, crying whilst he stands over the final remaining tribute. Meanwhile you can hear The Capitol citizens chanting his name. I'm pretty sure he won only twelve years ago; I was only four, but can still remember him. He's been our district's mentor ever since.

I stop thinking about Cannon Blakely and walk into our house, now thinking about my next punishment for being late. But I find, as I walk into the house, that it's empty. My family must have already gone to The Reaping. I head straight up stairs and find an old yellow sundress that will have to pass as "festive." I quickly brush my hair and run back outside.

The walk from the house to the town square is only about ten minutes, but because of the heat of the day, I'm starting to sweat by the time I reach the registration desk. After all my information is given to the registration workers, I walk over to a roped off area that's marked with a "16" which indicates the place to be if your of that age. Once there, I scoot and slide my way along until I'm standing beside Birck and Lou. We exchange supportive looks and wait for the even to begin.

Once the mayor, Mayor Trist, walks up we grab hands. Mayor Trist is a beautiful, sophisticated woman who always wears a tight skirt that comes down to her knees. Once she arrives at the microphone, she starts her speech. "The Great Rebellion, yada-yada-yada! The Dark Days, Blah-Blah-Blah! And The Treaty of Treason, so-on, and so-on!" it's nothing we haven't all heard before. Afterwards, she passes of the microphone to our escort, Mariette Clam. Mariette's dresses are always something to talk about. Every year she wears a dress that is extremely long; it drags along the ground in a lengthy trail behind her. This year it's lime green, which doesn't match her hair, which is blue.

"Good evening boys and girls! Welcome to the District Seven reaping of the 61st Hunger Games!" I can't help but giggle at her dumb accent. "I want to wish all the children good luck before we begin!" she then walks over to a big glass bowl that contains tiny slips of paper with all the names of the district's girls on it. I never really worry about being reaped. Since my family is wealthy, my name is only in there the minimum amount of times, five. And our district is fairly large, so my odds are always pretty good.

Mariette then grabs a slip of paper of the bowl, and then walks back to the center. But the attention isn't on her dress, or her hair, or even her accent; all the attention is on that slip of paper. "How about we begin with the young ladies." She says while she unfolds the piece of paper. She gives a small smile then says "This one sounds promising, _June Karillo!" _

I don't know if it's confusion of why she said the name sounded promising, or the utter shock of the thing, but it takes Lou's squeeze of my hand to register that I was reaped.

No way! This sucks! My lungs are about to burst with my screams. All those days whining about the torture of the games never led me to anticipate that it would soon be my turn to partake in them.

I don't know why I didn't just let the peacekeepers shoot me, but I find myself cooperating with them and start walking towards the stage. Each step adds more and more hatred for The Capitol. This is insane, this is wrong, and this is murder! I wish I could refuse to do this.

But the thing that strikes me wrong the most is that I don't hear a weeping parent, or a screaming sibling. In fact, when I look over to them, the only emotion on their face that I see is interest. They're waiting to see what this year's games are going to be like.

I've almost walked of the stage when I realize I need to bring it to a halt. I don't even pay attention when Mariette asks for volunteers because I have no hope of there being any, there never is. And then, before I know it, a boy has been chosen and he is walking up to me.

He looks a lot like Birck, even through the tears now filling my eyes. And then reality hits me, it is Birck! Oh no! I'm crying a river now, but I can't stop no matter if all of Panem is watching.

But Birck always did have extreme luck; right when he reaches me I hear a shout of "I volunteer!" I look towards the source to see a boy, probably eighteen, coming towards us. He has the standard brown hair, but it's buzzed, and the normal bright green eyes. He's a fast walker to, because by the time he's beside me, Birck hasn't even gotten off the stage.

Mariette then asks his name, which I can't hear, and then holds up each of our hands. "Ladies and Gentlemen I give you June Karillo and Preed Jennings, our tributes for the sixty-first Hunger Games!"


	4. Chapter 4: See You Later

**Zale Prentice, **_District 1_

As soon as the time for someone to volunteer was up, leaving me in utter astonishment and fear, the two tributes were told to shake hands. As I reached for Magenta's hand, she grew an annoyed look on her face that told you she didn't want to shake hands, and then she swatted mine away. "I'm not shaking your hand, I don't want you to get the impression that I'm not going to kill you." She said, so bluntly that you would think it was obvious.

"No, I completely understand." I say, which is an obvious lie because I don't understand. It's just a hand shake. We're then herded down the steps of the stage, and towards the justice building. It's a really uncomfortable walk because I'm completely surrounded by peacekeepers, which blocks any view from the crowd. But now that I think about, this is the least of my worries.

We're each thrown into separate rooms inside the justice building. Mine is a fairly comfortable space, which has a very expensive décor. The floor is made as a pattern of black and white marble. The black walls are very well-detailed with carvings of some abstract patterns I don't understand. Within the room is just two, fur-lined chairs that have been dyed red; a long, curved couch that matches the chairs; and a black mahogany coffee table that separates them.

I'm instructed to sit until my visitors arrive. It isn't long either, because just as I bend to sit down on the couch, my mother runs in and practically jumps me. "Please, please! Don't go! I can't lose you!" she's crying, obviously, and is soaking my shirt as she pleads for my safety. It breaks my heart and even forces a small tear to seep down my face. I never imagined this day would come.

"Mom, you have to stay strong. I don't have a choice. I have to go or they'll kill me and you. At least if I go I'll have a chance." This seems to calm her down a fraction, but she's still balling. I'm afraid if this goes on any longer, she'll flood the place. "You know I love you, and I promise to try my best to make it back." I say as reassuring as possible; hoping it settles her sorrow.

Just then a peacekeeper comes in and informs us that our time is up. "Please, don't take my boy away. Please!" she begs, latching her hands onto mine. But the peacekeeper just drags her away in his arms. "Zale! Zale I love you!" she screams.

"I love you too!" I say but it's useless because the door has already shut. I'm completely devastated, between the anguish of my mother and the thought that I'll probably never see her again; I've started a thin stream of tears. That couldn't of been more than thirty seconds, that's not long enough to say goodbye. They must've done it on purpose, trying to save trouble. I've finally settled with my attempt of wiping away my water works when Trish and Jett walk in.

Trish immediately runs up to me and throws her arms around my neck. "Look, I can't stay long because your mother is having a breakdown, but I want to let you know that I'll never forget you!" she says while she tries to stop the flow of tears. "You're the best friend I've ever had. I love you Zale."

"I love you too. And who knows, you may see me again." I say, trying to sound positive.

"I don't doubt it. Now goodbye." She then walks out of the room, but strangely enough, Jett stays.

He then starts talking; his voice takes on a dangerously serious tone. "Zale listen to me, I've been studying the games for years. I even planned to volunteer when I'm eighteen, but that's when I believed Trish would have you." I take in his every word with a certain degree of shock. Did he really expect to have a chance of winning the games, was he planning to volunteer? If what he says is the truth then he's a really good liar. "Something I've noticed is that more than fifty percent of District 1's victors weren't part of the career pack. That's the strategy you need to stick with, when they ask you to join, decline."

"Um, alright, thanks. I'll keep that in mind." I say. Wow, what an emotional day. First my mother's panic attack, and then my best friend's boyfriend revealing a huge secret.

"Good luck Zale, I have to go." And without another word, he's gone. I guess I have no other visitors because after a few minutes of me sitting there speechless, the peacekeepers come and usher me out the door, towards the train station. During the walk there all I can think about is how my mother's getting along. Hopefully she's sorted things out and calmed down. I wish I could go back and change the name on that slip of paper; I wish I could save my mother the pain. But I can't, and therefore have not only given my mom false comfort, but also insured upon her unbearable pain.

As we near the train station I try not to think of my mother, but it' impossible. Every thought leads me back to her. I'm worried that I'll start to cry in front of the cameras, but I manage. And so does Magenta, who met up with me in the Justice Building, but I doubt she's having any problems with tears. I'm sure her tough exterior is identical to the interior.

Once I step onto the train I run to my assigned room and let the tears run freely. But during my waterworks, I have a frightening, yet somewhat comforting thought. Not only do I owe my mother for giving her such grief, but I also owe her for putting me through all that training.

**Kord Calloway, **_District 3_

I don't know what I was thinking; volunteering for a boy I didn't know. I'm not sure if I thought it was a noble deed, I don't think so because it was just as much an act of selfishness also. I had the idea that if I went into the land of nightmares, and made it out alive, that once I got back I would be exempt from my execution. Seeing as the very thing I was being killed for was blown up in my face. But still, that doesn't guarantee my safety, first I have to win the games.

Once I volunteered, Lem called me up to the stage, asked for my name, and then announced this year's tributes. I was then told to shake the little girl's hand, along with our mentor's. Seeing that district 3 hasn't had a victor in fifteen years, our latest victor is a woman named Wiress, who's in her early thirties. She has a tendency to let her sentences drop, mid-thought.

After all the handshakes, we were took to the Justice Building, my second visit of the day, and placed in small rooms to await visitors. I don't really have any expectations of any, so I take the time to think of my upcoming struggles. What will my strategy in the arena be, I certainly won't be making any alliances with the careers, but I don't they'd ask me anyways. When it comes down to it, I don't think I'll make any alliances at all; they're too much of a distraction.

Will I go into the cornucopia? Most likely. I couldn't survive without supplies. What weapons would I use? I'd have to find one in training that suits me. What about-

The door suddenly opens, and in comes an older lady, dressed in a long pink dress, with a small black-haired boy with glasses. I recognize the boy immediately; he's the one I volunteered for. The young boy runs up to me, and gives me a hug. It's totally unexpected, either because I'm a stranger or because I haven't hugged anybody in years. But I accept it anyway, knowing it would be rude not to.

The older woman then walks up, she must be his grandma, and says "Thank you, for volunteering for my grandson. You have given us a chance to remain a family." She gives me a truly sincere smile, and then takes my hand, puts something in it, and closes my fingers around it. "That has been in our family for many generations, it's always brought good luck to the holder." She says, and then without any other statements, picks up the boy and walks out.

It's not until they're long gone that I take a peek at what she gave me. It's a necklace, no more than a piece of string with a small, blue gem encased in a ring of silver. It must've cost a fortune; silver is very expensive. I slowly slip it around my neck. I've only felt it's coldness resting on my chest for a few seconds when the peacekeepers inform me it's time to leave. And away to The Capitol I go.

**June Karillo,**_ District 7_

I can't believe it, I am a player in The Hunger Games. This couldn't possibly get any worse. Well it could, in fact it almost did, but thankfully that Preed guy volunteered for Birck. It was a hair away from getting a hundred times worse.

As I shake my fellow tribute's hand, I realize he's not only fast but strong too, he almost breaks mine. I then shake my mentor's hand, who happens to be Cannon. When I touch his skin I feel a warmth of kindness, I also see it in his eyes. After we shake hands, out of nowhere he pulls me into a hug. "I promise to do my best to get you out of there alive." He whispers. I'm shocked by his words; why me? Why not Preed, who has a way better chance?

But before I answer, I'm whisked away to a private room in the Justice building. As I sit, I take in the wood floors, the wood walls, and even the wooden table. I'm getting sick of all this wood. I realize that is our district's industry, but still, can't we have a little diversity?

I'm still confused by Cannon's sudden interest in me, when the door opens revealing a depressed Birck and Lou. They each walk over and sit on either side of me on the couch, Birck setting his arm around me, and Lou putting her hand on my knee. "I'm so sorry June, if I could do something to stop this insanity I would." She says.

And I know to some people, that statement would sound cliché and something she has to say to be a good friend, but I know she's sincere. I can hear the quaver in her voice; I can see the sadness in her eyes. "But we know you're going to win, you have the cleverness, the speed, and the determination." This comment came from Birck. "Lou and I believe in you."

At this outburst, I crumble into a heap of sobs and tears. My friends crowd around he and hug me. We just stay there for what seems like hours. But it's really only about a minute when the peacekeepers come in, taking my only friends with him.

It was so brief, I don't think we even officially said goodbye, the state we were all in prevented us from seeing reality. But I don't even have time to think it through when my next visitor comes in, or should I say visitors.

In walks in Dawson, then Bush, and then my mother, and finally my father. My whole entire family, the ones who have made my life miserable, the ones who I hate. What are they doing here? They don't care about me. They never have, in fact I would think they'd be happy I got reaped. Them being here is a total surprise.

My mom walks up to me first, "Oh honey, I'm so sorry. This is horrible." She says. What is going on? Surely she doesn't mean it, she's lying.

Then it hits me. I've seen her do this before. She only does it when somebody's watching, or when it's expected of her. For example, when her daughter has just been reaped. It infuriates me, enrages me, it drives me insane. Next it's my father's turn, "This is so diffi-"

"STOP!" I don't know how I mustered up the strength to do this. I guess it's been bubbling up inside of me all these years. I know I've never done anything like it before, I can tell by my family's shocked looks. But I can't quite now, "You have never cared about me! I've been a disappointment to you, nothing more. My sorrow for those killed in the games has made me an outcast! It drives you crazy doesn't it? Me having the decency to care," I'm on a roll now, it feels so right to finally say this stuff. "Well I'm sick of it, and it stops today, especially since I'll probably be dead in a week."

"Sweetie, I'm sorry you feel that way. I had no idea." My mom says.

I'm pissed now, "You had every idea, don't play stupid with me. You've just been faking every time someone was looking!" the looks on their faces is the exact reaction I wanted, the look of defeat. The look that says their cover's blown. It's about time.

Just then a peacekeeper pokes his head in and tells my family it's time to leave, and without further discussion they obey him. I then lay down on the couch and start to cry. Maybe going into the games is a good thing. Maybe it's an escape from my family. No, I'm going to miss my friends, but who knows; maybe I'll make it back.

I guess I'm so exhausted from the day's events, because before I know it, I've fallen asleep. And I awake to find I'm being carried by Cannon to the train. This can't look good on camera; a sixteen year-old so weak, she has to be carried away by her mentor. But I must not care much because I eventually fall back asleep in his arms.


	5. Chapter 5: A Revelation

**Zale Prentice, **_District 1_

I've never been on a train before; I've never had the need to. But considering the circumstances, and my destination, I don't really get the chances to enjoy the ride. After we boarded the train, I spent some time in my room weeping, and replaying this horrible day. It was so unexpected, but I got to stop thinking about it; I'm in the games now, and I've got to be strong.

So to take my mind off of those thoughts, I walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face; a little too cold. As soon as the icy liquid touched my face I let out a small shriek and took a step back, bumping into a shelf of various soaps. The shelf fell, sending all the tubes of cleanser to the floor.

I guess my accident didn't go unnoticed, because in the middle of cleaning up my mess, Cherriton knocked on the door, "Is everything all right in there?" He asked. I don't know if it's that the question was directed to somebody in the bathroom, or if it's because I'm a klutz, but I blushed with embarrassment.

"No, I mean yes! I'm fine; I just knocked down some soap." I say, trying to wipe up some of the spilt suds. "I'm cleaning it up."

"Oh kid, don't bother. Let the avox's take care of the mess." He says. Avox, I've heard about them, I think from another victor I knew. They're criminals to The Capitol, people who have done something wrong. I'm pretty sure I heard that their tongues are cut of, making sure they never say another word. The thought sickens me. "Besides, it's time for dinner. Get dressed and come to the dining car quickly." I can hear his footsteps echoing down the hall.

I don't want to go to dinner; I'm not hungry. But I guess I have to, but I go ahead and clean up my mess to take up time. After I'm satisfied with my clean-up, I go back to my compartment and find an avox is just now coming to clean. "It's alright." I tell him. "I've already got it fixed." He nods and then runs off. I go over to the closet to find something more comfortable to wear.

I finally settle with a thin, red, long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of black pants. I comb my hair, and then walk out the door. As I walk down the hall I realize just how nervous I am. My mentors, two married victors named Sharp Cress and Blush Burgundy, probably expect me to join the career pack. But according to what Jett said, it's not a smart idea.

I pass a few doors as I make my way towards the end car, probably all of the other passenger's rooms. Once I get closer to the car, I smell heavenly delights coming from the room. And when I enter, I see even more heavenly delights. I see many different cuts of steak, vegetables I've never seen before, bread stuffed with stuff I wouldn't imagine being in bread, and other stuff that I can't even name.

My whole team is already there; the two victors sitting shoulder to shoulder, Cherriton sitting with his back straight as a board, and Magenta, who looks at me with such hatred when I walk in. "We've been waiting for you for ages." Magenta says.

"Well why didn't you all start eating, I wouldn't mind." I say. I find it weird that the blame is pointed to me.

"Because Cherriton wouldn't let us." She says, giving the same look she gave me to him.

"It's not polite to eat without every one present." He says, with a superior tone that says you're stupid if you didn't know this. "What, were you not raised with correct manners. Did your mothers not care?" the statement about my mother makes me enraged with anger. He has no right to say those things about her, even if it wasn't intended for that effect.

I then go over to an empty chair, and give him a death stare as I plop own in it. I next load my plate with venison, greens, scalloped potatoes, and bread rolls filled with some stringy cheese. I don't come from a poor family, we own our own jewelry store, but I've never been this well fed in my life. And I don't stop; I stuff my face with everything on that table, only stopping when I realize all eyes are upon me.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I just caught carried away." I said, I can feel my cheeks burning with red. I just thought it was normal to see someone from the districts to eat like this.

"It's quite alright." Sharp said, giving a strange look to his wife. "How about we talk a little about the strategy you two will be using."

"I assume you will both be joining the careers." That was Blush. "So we need to-"

"I'm not going with the careers." I blurt out without taking another thought. This statement gets me even more stares than my eating habits. "I'm not a career." I can tell this comes as a shock to them, but I don't care, if I join the pack I'll eventually be killed when they start turning on each other. At least this way I'll have a chance.

"What do you mean you're not a career? You're from District 1; a career district." Sharp says. He is obviously bewildered.

"I know. Most tributes from our district are volunteering careers. But I didn't volunteer, we're you not there?" I add an edge of insult to that last question.

"Well yes I was, but you need to stick with the careers, they always have food and weapons. It's your best shot." Sharp is really getting on my nerves.

"Look, I've been dragged into these games without warning. I don't want to be here, but since I am I'm going to play my way. So stop telling me what I need to do!" with that final order I get up and stalk out of the room.

But when only a few steps out the door I hear Cherriton say something that really rubs me the wrong way. "What right does that boy have, yelling at a victor like that? He needs to learn some manners. He wasn't even excused." The nerve of that guy, thinking manners are all that matters when innocent kids are being sentenced to death. I can't believe him!

As I enter my bedroom I realize something frightening, I'm no better than him! Every year, on Reaping Day, me and Trish would go out and celebrate just as The Capitol wanted us to. We treated it like a holiday, spending extra money and feasting on food. We never really cared that it meant the deaths of twenty-three other kids. We acted just like Cherriton.

I'm completely ashamed of myself. And the sad thing is that it took looking death in the face to notice my incompetence. I'm just now seeing The Hunger Games for their truly demented purpose. It's so not fair.

So, now more than ever, I have the feeling that I've got to get back home. I've got to figure out a way to become a better person. I've got to get back to share my thoughts with Trish; how we've been going about Reaping Day all wrong. But how do I win the games?

I need a plan. I need an alliance. But not the careers, I need somebody else. I'll have to study the other reapings and look for a suitable partner.

**Kord Calloway, **_District 3_

I'm getting sick of the cameras. They seem to be everywhere; at the reaping, in the train station, one guy even snuck onto the train, but a peacekeeper just dragged him back out.

Their constant flashing is about to give me a seizure. I'm actually thankful to be heading to The Capitol when the train door closes; leaving only the sound of camera shutters. I slowly, with my hand guiding me along the wall, walk to my designated room. It's rough going though, I have a major headache which brings on a lot of dizziness. But I finally make it to my room without collapsing.

I stumble over to my bed, falling onto the fluffy mattress. As I lie there, I think of my upcoming experience. What's it going to be like when we get to The Capitol? I'm sure there will be flashy outfits, outrageous hair-dos, and a lot of cameras. A lot of cameras!

Oh no! I'm dreading it even more now. I can deal with the games, but not more cameras. Ugh! I guess I'll just have to deal with it if I want to survive.

Is it possible? Can I really win The Hunger Games? I've never really thought about it before. Maybe I could, if I can get food and a weapon. I'm pretty well muscled, although I can't tell you where I got them from. I'm tall to, probably taller than most tributes, but I don't know that yet. And hopefully I'll get plenty of sponsors, to send me food and what not.

My stomach leaps at the mention of food; I think it's time for a meal. I get to go see if dinner is almost ready, but before I reach the door, there is a light knock. I'm surprised at the timing and eagerly open the door, expecting to find Lem Winslow inviting me to dinner. But I'm surprised to find that it's someone else. It's the little girl; my district partner. I still don't know her name.

"Oh hello, erm…" I try to think of something to call her but come up short.

"Genna, my name is Genna." She says in a soft voice that sounds like a whisper. "Can I come in? I have something I'd like to say."

"Sure, come on in Genna." I say, giving her my best smile. I move out of the way and let her walk in. She goes over to a short, plush chair in the corner, and takes a seat. The image is funny because once she's fully settled in the chair, her feet don't even touch the ground. "Is there something wrong?" I ask.

"Well, no. I just wanted to say thank you; for volunteering for my brother. It means a lot, especially since I'll probably never see him again." She says, the whole scene is really sad; it breaks my heart.

"Don't sweat it kiddo," I say as I ruffle her hair, "besides I don't deserve your thanks. I honestly didn't volunteer because I'm a good person. Just the opposite actually." And then I find myself telling my story to a twelve year-old girl, who happens to be a great listener. And not just the story of my break-in, but my whole life. From my brother being reaped, to my death sentence. "See, it was really an act of selfishness." I give her a small, ashamed smile.

"Oh no, not at all. Not matter what your reasoning, you just saved my brother's life. It not only means the world to him, but to me and my grandma to." She says giving me a quick hug, that's the second today. "I'm sure if he could, my brother would thank you a thousand times."

That statement really confuses me, what does she mean "if he could"? I find myself putting my thoughts into words. "Why can't he thank me?" A look comes over her face that says she just remembered something important.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, he's mute." She says without giving it any thought.

"What? That's terrible, how could The Capitol do that? I can't believe they'd turn a little boy into an avox." I say astonished.

"No, no, no, it's not like that at all!" she then tells me a story, even more tragic than mine. "When we were eight, there was a huge fire that consumed our house. It was terrible, there was walls crumbling, and shelves falling. My brother and me made it out, and ran across to a neighbor's house. But our parents weren't so lucky. They both died in the fire." I can see the pain in her eyes as she relates her tale. I'm not sure how she can tell me this without crying. "It had been days after the fire, and my brother still hadn't said a word. We were staying at our grandma's house, and she took him to our local doctor. We expected it to be emotional trauma, but it turned out that his vocal chords were so infected with smoke and dirt, that it prevented his voice. They had to take them out."

She said that last line with such sadness, I felt like he was my own brother. "I'm sorry, that sounds terrible." I say, rubbing her back at the same time.

"It's fine, as long as he's alive, that's why your volunteering had so much affect; that was the second time we'd almost lost him." She said this just as there was another knock on the door.

This time, it turned out to be Lem, "Kord it's time for- Oh, what are you doing in here?" he said, turning his attention to Genna.

"We were just talking." I said, covering for her. "We'll be right there."

Lem gave me a suspicious glare, "Okay, but don't be late. You have five minutes." He said, then left; leaving the door open.

I turned to Genna, "What do you say we go get some food?" I asked her.

"Sounds good!" she replies, and then we leave. All of the sadness of our previous conversation is gone.


	6. Chapter 6: Remind Me

**June Karillo, **_District 7_

Even though my life at the moment is full of horrible depressing events, I still manage to have dreams.

I'm in a forest, running from something, but I don't know what. I'm pretty sure I'm in the games, seeing as I hear a far off cannon, and I'm being chased by other tributes. By the sound of shuffling feet, I guess there's more than one. It's probably the careers, hunting me down to kill me, which will bring them one more step towards their goal. I think I'm losing them when I trip over a tree root. I feel a sharp pain from my ankle, I bet it's broken. I try to get up, but I'm too slow and the careers come upon me.

Only it's not the careers. I look up, and stare into the faces of my family; I see my mom, my dad, Bush, and little Dawson. How did they get in the games? They weren't reaped; Bush is the only one even within the age limit. They can't be here, maybe they're mutts. Evil, twisted, terrifying mutts. The devilish smiles they all wear just add to the terror. And when they speak, it sounds even more harsh than normal.

"You're going to die June." My dad says, his grin getting even bigger.

"And when you do, we'll be right back at home, waiting for your tortured body." My mother says in a voice full of eagerness.

"We'll watch while you scream in fright, but we'll just laugh." Dawson says, and then starts laughing a horrible laugh. It's the evil laugh supervillians always use when they try to be scary. But it's not so corny this time, it doesn't make me laugh. In fact, it's horrible; it makes me cringe with fear. It makes me scream, a loud, high-pitched scream. And then I wake up.

I'm still screaming, but I'm not in that freakish forest anymore. I'm in a place that's just as terrifying, but in a different way. I'm in my compartment aboard the train, in a small room that holds two doors. One of them leads to a bathroom, and one of them holds the entrance into the hall. I need to get out in the hall, but which one is it.

I don't get the chance to experiment though, because just then Cannon comes in, out of breath. "What's wrong? Did something happen? I heard you scream." He has a look of worry on his face, which again brings up the thought of "why does he care so much about me?" but I push it aside, worrying about the conversation at hand.

"Nothing happened. I'm fine. It was just a bad dream. Sorry." I say, wiping a cold layer of sweat from my forehead with the back of my head.

He looks relieved, "Oh, ok then. Um, I was on my way down here to tell you that it's time for dinner. So, you need to get ready." With that, he left, leaving me alone to get ready.

I quickly run to the bathroom, wash up, get dressed in something more comfortable, and then leave the room; heading for the dining cart. I don't realize how hungry I am until I see the mountain of food laid on the table. After I'm done standing there, fantasizing about the food, I take in the room's residence. There's only Cannon and Preed, but I don't see any sign of Mariette.

Cannon senses my presence and looks up, "Ahh, there she is." He says with a smile, he then motions me towards an empty chair. "Please, take a seat."

I walk over to the chair, and slowly sit. "Where's our escort? Shouldn't she be here?" I ask to either one of my acquaintances.

"Well she said she needs to do her hair, and find another dress. Hopefully it's one that will fit in this room." He says, and then laughs at his joke about her long dress at the reaping. "I'm so hungry, I don't she'll mind if we go ahead and start eating." And without another word we all three fill our plates. Once we've been eating for a few minutes Mariette comes in, wearing a totally new outfit.

This time she had bright yellow hair, only shorter; it came down to her shoulders. She's wearing a pink dress, which is so tight; you'd think she's suffocating. It's purple, and comes down to her ankles. But it's not the outfit that makes me laugh; it's the way she walks. The dress is so tight, she has to waddle a couple inches at a time. It takes her ages to get to her chair. It draws out a slight giggle from me. The only sign of joy I've had since the reaping.

From then on we eat in silence. It isn't until we've dozed through dessert, that Cannon breaks the silence, "Well now that we're finished eating, let's all head to the TV room to watch the other reapings." This brings on a small cheer from Mariette.

"I think I'll pass, I don't want to get too attached." Says Preed then he just walks back to his room, leaving the room with an atmosphere of shock and confusion.

"That is one odd boy." Says Mariette. I agree, I would think watching the reapings would give you more of an advantage; it would let you learn about the competition. But oh well. Cannon then stands up.  
>"Shall we?" he asks, leading us into a room filled with a large, plush, white couch and a glass coffee table. We all sit down, with me in the middle, and wait for the television to come on. We wait there for several minutes, just staring at a black screen.<p>

"Maybe it's broke." Suggests Cannon, looking around for someone to fix it.

Then Mariette stands up, "I'll go look for somebody to repair it. It'll be just a moment." She says, and then waddles off. I then find myself alone with Cannon, a previous thought reoccurring in my mind. It gnaws at my brain until I'm forced to voice it.

"Cannon, why do seem to care so much about me?" I ask, turning to look at him. He registers a look of misunderstanding.

"What do you mean?" he asks, leaving me wondering whether or not he cares, or is just a genuinely nice person.

"Well, for starters, at the reaping you hugged me and told me you'd try your best to help me win. And then you carried me to the train when I fell asleep, instead of waking me up. And finally, when I woke up screaming, you rushed to my room to make sure I was alright. You were the only one." I can now see him grow a depressed look on his face, like I've just reminded him of some horrible event from his past.

And from the story he's about to tell me, I just did. "After I had won my games, the president wanted me to come and stay in The Capitol for a month. He said that if I came he could give me even more fortune than the standard winnings. But I had heard the stories from other victors, about how the best looking were sold as "slaves" to capitol citizens. About how they had a new lover every night. I didn't want that. I just wanted to live out my life back in District 7, with my mom and sister, Bree. She was your age at the time, and we shared a close relationship." I'm having trouble seeing where this is going. "I declined Snow's offers several times, but finally he got tired of me saying no. So he threatened to kill my family, but I was too ignorant to believe him. He asked me one final time, and I gave him the same answer. And that day I come home to watch my mom and sister get hung." Oh no, that's terrible, I had no idea. "It's just that you remind me so much of Bree, I noticed it from the day you ran into me. And I knew that I couldn't let you go to." Then his eyes dropped to the floor, indicating that he's done talking. I'm amazed, I had no idea.

I would have never thought those things had I known about this. I just assumed he was some kind of guy who fell for every young girl he met. But I was so wrong, I have such bad judgment. Ashamed would be the perfect word to describe how I feel, I wish I could start over with Cannon. I wish I could have been kinder.

But I shrug it off, I wasn't exactly mean to him, just in my mind. But in person, I think I was polite enough, but I wish I could have gone out of my way to thank him. But I still can, I have to make it my personal plan to know his efforts are appreciated. Starting tomorrow, when we reach The Capitol.

Just then Mariette comes in with a servant to fix the television. "It took forever to find someone who could fix it, but I eventually did!" she says, motioning the TV to the man.

**Zale Prentice, **_District 1_

I have been officially invited to watch all the other reapings of today, or so Cherriton says. After he popped his head into my room and said so I've been working up the courage to go, knowing that everybody there hates me. But eventually my curiosity got the better of me, and I walked out the door. And I ran right into Magenta.

We bumped heads and immediately fell to the ground. I was still trying to get my bearings when Magenta stands up and towers over me. She looks mad, very mad. "Watch where you're going klutz!" as she sprays the words I find the strength to get up.

What right does she have to yell at me? So I yell back "It was an accident! And don't you dare call me a klutz, it was your fault just as much as it was mine." I can feel my face matching hers, a bright red of anger. And suddenly, I'm regretting that I ever screamed at her.

She grabs my throat and shoves me up against the wall. She so strong! She's preventing me from moving. I'm going to eventually run out of air. She then puts her face an inch away from mine. "Don't you ever yell at me again." I can smell her breath, it smells of mint. "You are nothing but a slug compared to me. You don't have the right to even share my presence. And I'll make sure you never do again in the games. So you'd better watch out slug, cause you'll be my first target." She then spits in my face and lets go, slowly walking away. That's gross, but not as gross as her words. I wipe the saliva from my face as I try to calm myself down.

Calm down Zale, just breathe. She'll forget, she'll have bigger problems than you. But it's hard to calm down; I just made a very dangerous opponent set her sights on me. This could prevent me from making it home alive. Hopefully Magenta will see someone in the reapings that she would rather target, hopefully. I just hang on to that hope as I walk down the hall to the TV room.


	7. Chapter 7: Studying My Competition

**Kord Calloway, **_District 3_

After we were all stuffed with food, Lem announced that scheduled next is the recap of the reapings. I was too attached to my first meal of plenty though, so before I walked into the TV room, I grabbed a couple of bread rolls to take with me.

The TV room might look different than rooms in the district, but it's a lot more comfortable. The walls were painted a deep blue, with strange sculptures hung sparsely. There is a large, red, banana-shaped sofa placed in the center. About two feet to the right of it is a red fur chair that is shaped like a cup. The style is definitely Capitol.

I can't say 'm not a little bit nervous about watching the kids that stand in my way of going home, of living a good life where there's no need to steal food. Kids that are trying to stop me from sleeping in a normal bed at night, trying to stop me from sleep at all. It rattles my brain to know that I'll see them for the very first time, and to know that they'll see me at the same time. I'm ready.

I walked into the room and took a seat on the edge of the sofa, next to Genna. Lem sits on the other side, while Wiress sits in the deep chair. Once everybody was seated, we sit there and wait. The atmosphere was pure anticipation. No one knows what we're going to see tonight; the best we can do is guess.

And of course, every one of us has guesses. I guess there will be at least four career tributes, most likely more. There might be a couple of twelve year-olds, Genna being one of them. And then there will be probably one or two surprises, or kids whose reaping is so shocking, they already have sponsors lining up. Now that I think about it, I might be one of the surprises; it's not every day that District 3 has a volunteer. And of course, there will be the tributes that will die in the bloodbath at the cornucopia. But these are just the standard guesses. You never know what might happen.

Wiress hasn't said much since we got here, which is another reason I take what she says next so much more seriously. "When you're watching the reapings, pay attention to every little detail. You need to know as much about your opponents as possible. If you have a small backstory, it means you have another weapon in the games. It could very well mean life or-"and then she drops out of the conversation, focusing on a piece of lint she found in her pocket.

I completely get what she's saying though, if your enemy is slowly going insane, you can use something from their home to trigger an emotional breakdown. She's right; it could end up saving my life. Just then the television comes to life, shedding light to the room. On the screen are Claudius Templesmith and Ceasar Flickerman, both sitting behind a curved table. They're eager to give speculation to the reapings.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to our special preview of the reapings of our twenty-four tributes." Ceasar says, which in response, gets an uproar of applause.

"This year we have a wide variety of interesting participants; it should make for a very exciting Hunger Games!" Claudius says which gets an equal amount of applause. "Let's begin by watching the District 1 reaping." And that's how it got started; we watched the career tributes from 1and2, except for the boy from 1, who was reaped without volunteers. We next watched my reaping, where you could see the shock on my face as I hastily made the decision to volunteer. And then we watch the careers from 4. The female tribute from there is absolutely stunning, you'd think she has already been in touch with her prep team. The way her fiery red hair flows in the sea breeze as she triumphantly walks up to the stage is beautiful. But I have to keep in mind that she's as eager to kill as any other career. The only other surprises come from District 5 and 7. In 5 there's a boy who volunteers, and by the way the female acts, you know he did it to protect his girlfriend. And in 7 there is a cute girl who gets reaped, but that's not the surprise. The shock was that there was a volunteer for the males, and it doesn't seem that he was driven by any emotion either. You can tell by the look on his face that he's there to win.

After we've seen all twelve reapings, Ceasar starts to close. "Well folks, it looks like we've got an intense group of tributes this year. We've got a beautiful girl, three volunteers from underdog districts, and a set of lovers. Who knows what will happen. So good night, happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." And with that, the TV goes black.

**June Karillo, **_District 7_

It took a while, but eventually the capitol servant got the TV running again, and we sat down to watch the reapings. After some chatter and an introduction from Claudius Templesmith and Ceasar Flickerman, the town square from District 1 came on screen. Surprisingly, there were no volunteers from that district, but the female was definitely a career. Next came District 2, which presented very dangerous looking tributes. The male looked like he could break a neck with two fingers. There was a beautiful girl from 4, a lover duo from 5, and then there was us. The only other person that made an impression was the boy from 3, I think his names Kord. I don't know what it is, but I got this feeling from seeing him. I don't know whether the feeling is good or bad, I don't know if he's harmless or dangerous. But I know I have to keep my eye on him.

After we've watched the reaping from 12, the announcers are back on to share their thoughts. Once they were finished, the screen went blank.

"So what did you think June?" Cannon asked once it was over.

"Well, other than the careers, the only ones I worry about are the boy from 3 and Preed. There's something about my district partner that scares me." I say, looking back to make sure he hasn't silently appeared behind me.

"Yes, definitely watch out for Preed, there something going on in his head. And definitely don't forget about the careers, that boy from 2, Chrysler was his name, he looks deadly. And don't let the 4 girl's beauty distract you; I'm sure she'll use that to her advantage. But about the boy from 3, you're right about there being a weird vibe from him, but I don't think you should be scared of him. He seems to be a good person." He says, giving me hardcore advice.

"Thanks for the advice, but I think I'm going to head on up to bed. I'll see you in the morning." I get up and walk out of the room. Once I make it to my quarters I jump into my bed and fall into a deep sleep. Soon I have the same dream from this afternoon.

**Zale Prentice, **_District 1_

So far I've narrowed it down to five potential allies. The boy from 3 is tall, muscled, and handsome enough to get sponsors. Plus the way he volunteered for that young boy can play well to his strategy.

Another possible alliance comes from District 5, the two lovers. I think their names are Trip and Leah. They, like the 3 boy, have a useful back story. Their relationship can get them many sponsors. And they didn't seem entirely unfit. I bet they could hold up in a fight if they could use a weapon.

My next choice is the male tribute from District 7. He seems very tough, and doesn't look like the type to join with the careers, which is something we have in common. The only downside is that he seems a little dark. I'm not sure if I could trust him in an alliance. He might stab me in the back, literally.

My final option is the girl from District 10, Bray. She is eighteen, and in top physical shape. She's tall, well-built, and pretty, which could also get her sponsors.

All the other tributes weren't really much of an option. I've already ruled out the careers, although the girl from 4's looks almost changed my mind. The tributes from 6, 8, and 9 were all very boring; they didn't have much potential. And the kids from 11 and 12 were too underfed and emotional; every one of them broke down. So that left me with the five I have now. Maybe if I can get to know them better during training, I can finally make a decision.

After the show was over, followed by the announcer's closing, our mentors and Magenta started to laugh. I was lost very quick. "Wow, not much competition this year." Says Sharp.  
>"Yeah I know, I could take out any one of them. Although the giant from 2 may be a challenge." She says with a snort. She then looks over to me with a deadly smirk. "You'd be especially easy to kill. I'd enjoy it." She then starts laughing again, which is added with everyone else's giggles and snorts. I eventually get so annoyed that I get up and leave.<p>

As I make my way to my room, I think about how disappointed Magenta will be when I win.


End file.
